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You're at the hotel and after that you go to the venue and sit there and wait.

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After That.

After that
the only
thing she thought

mattered was
the sunlight
coming through

the tall trees
as you and
she lay on

your backs by
the large pond
listening

to birdsong
and the wind
coming through

the branches
and she there
full of life

breathing in
the sharp air
and she said

Van Gogh could
have captured
this morning

with the trees
and sunlight
and the way

the wind moves
through branches
and you said

but Renoir
despite his
arthritic

hands could have
captured your
young beauty

on canvas
somewhere off
a dog barked

a cow mooed
and your hand
like a crab

moved over
the green grass
and touched her

small warm hand
and she smiled
like da Vinci's

painting of
the Mona
Lisa you'd

seen in that
old art book
in the school

library
tucked between
a battered

old atlas
and book of
poetry

which no one
ever read
no doubt the

pond's still there
the sunlight
and the wind

but she's not
she gone now
all silent

amongst the
peaceful dead.

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One Day You Stop By A Bridge And Just Sit There

and gaze at the rage of the water
under
the brown river gathering all the nuts
from the mountain
after the flood

murky, all murky
you sit there staring blankly
down
under

and you get carried away
floating
like one of the coconuts
not minding
direction

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I Am After That Molten Gold..!

i am after that molten gold..!

&

o dear your honeyed words

can no longer hold me

in your sweet clutches-

i am after that molten gold

that floods the eastern gates in early morn-

miss i would otherwise this supreme wealth

and no time whatsoever to divert them

to my craving and starving intellect!

i am on a mad rush to the distant horizon

o my love, while the two sparkling nights

that swim in the great white seas of your eyes

lull me to gentle sleep amidst cosy dreams

this golden explosion shatters me from ignorance

and i am greedy and crazy over it!

must i leave, grieve not, o my dear queen!

-s.chandra kalaadhar

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After that night

He said things would never change
that things would always be the same
he told me he loved me
he swore all this on our friendship

but after that night we had no friendship nor any love
after that night he said goodbye
after that night he said it never mattered
after that night he ignored me
after that night he left for good

it wasnt my fault
it wasnt me who made all the mistakes
it wasnt me who turned and walked away from him
cause i still love him, but he made the choice
to leave me standing all alone that night

he left me standing there full of saddness and shame
he left me believing all his lies
he left me to love him after thaat night

nothing was ever the same nor will it ever be
because after that night not a bit of that night could make it right
i lost my best friend and my first love after that night

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T'was the Night Before Christmas

Her mommy was sound asleep, Her daddy was on the couch, Watchin' the T.V, She got up to use the potty, Hopefully he wouldn't see, Then she got back in her bed, She heard him walkin', And fallin' on the walls, 'cause he was drunk,

Then she prayed: 'Hopefully he wouldn't slap me, Please don't let him kick, Please not a bite or a scratch, Not even a knick, Please don't let it happen, Not on this wonderful night...', Then he opened her door, Grabed her by her neck, What a horibble sight, He put her down with a slam, Grabed her by her hair, And pulled her down the hall,

She screamed, She kicked, Then she yelled, 'WHAT DID I DO? ' After that he let go, He punched, He hit, There was nothing she could do, But lay there and cry,

Then her mommy screamed at her, For making her daddy angry, Mommy grabed a beer bottle, Then through it a her head, Her mommy said 'clean up this mess then go back to bed', She did as her mommy said, Then her mommy grabed her daddy by the arm, And went back to bed, Then she noticed she was bleeding from her head,

She grabed the phone and called 911, But I guess they were to late, 'cause when they got there, She was already dead,

T'was the night, Before christmas, The same night that little girl died, If you listen closely, You can still hear her cry.

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The Dark House

Where a faint light shines alone,
Dwells a Demon I have known.
Most of you had better say
"The Dark House," and go your way.
Do not wonder if I stay.

For I know the Demon's eyes
And their lure that never dies.
Banish all your fond alarms,
For I know the foiling charms
Of her eyes and of her arms,

And I know that in one room
Burns a lamp as in a tomb;
And I see the shadow glide,
Back and forth, of one denied
Power to find herself outside.

There he is who was my friend,
Damned, he fancies, to the end--
Vanquished, ever since a door
Closed, he thought, for evermore
On the life that was before.

And the friend who knows him best
Sees him as he sees the rest
Who are striving to be wise
While a Demon's arms and eyes
Hold them as a web would flies.

All the words of all the world,
Aimed together, and then hurled,
Would be stiller in his ears
Than a closing of still shears
On a thread made out of years.

But there lives another sound,
More compelling, more profound;
There's a music, so it seems,
That assuages and redeems,
More than reason, more than dreams.

There's a music yet unheard
By the creature of the word,
Though it matters little more
Than a wave-wash on the shore--
Till a Demon shuts a door.

So, if he be very still
With his Demon, and one will,
Murmurs of it may be blown
To my friend who is alone
In a room that I have known.

After that from everywhere
Singing life will find him there;
And my friend, again outside,
Will be living, having died.

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Patrick White

And The Poems Sit There

And the poems sit there on the tracks,
on the shadows of serpentine ladders,
without engines, though moving, without diesels
to drive them, chain-letters to the world,
to a moment with nothing else to do,
to lonely abuses huddled by the flowering lamp
like fairies in boxes of shy plaster,
to broken windows who rage at the stars
for not accepting their jagged black holes,
to lovers who spend too long in the shower
pruning their gardens,
every ray of light in place
as they go out to pale their shining in the sun,
and the poppy girls with spider tongues
offering little green crowns to the bees, sit there
without moving, though moving,
pulling their hearts on long lifelines out of the void
that fuels their furnaces with crows,
that rescues drowned sailors from the rose of the sea,
that fangs the old lions with light
to pluck the one-stringed jugulars of radiant gazelles.
Two cobras dancing, the hold of our hands,
and the swans revealing their lizard roots,
and the rain a small violet in the rusty passions of the coffee-can
I don’t want to trade blood with the sour wine of the snails,
I’ve always had my own skull to drink from, and the water
of the dirty windows weeping in the morning,
and there are faces I can lap like mirrors for a taste of stars,
and bodies that unfold like single futons
patched with small maps of nocturnal sugar
that glow like prophetic ores from somewhere deeper in the mine.
Every morning I take my eyes out like contacts
and rinse them in the grave, wash off the residue
of yesterday’s visions, the smog and the dew and the soot,
the stagnant waters that cling to them like skies and skin
and the little rivers of blood that show you
an aerial perspective of the lightning, fireflies, stars, dreams
and the cinders of oil drum fires under all-night bridges
and the black commas of what’s left
of the butterflies in midnight webs. And there are cocoons of birth,
of transformations with wet wings emerging among the water hyacinths
and then there are the cocoons that hang like pendants
from the trophy lines of fat arachnids,
webs dripping under the weight of their hourglass stones
like torn suspension bridges and swaying spinal cords.
And it makes me so sad to see a door burn, a helical stairwell
straighten itself out to belong to a fire-truck,
and there are other things, sadder things,
ants with pruned antennae, dreams who think like used stamps,
the rainbow fingers of painted children
washed off under a cold tap,
and the breast of a pigeon undone like a pillow by a hawk,
the sad, abandoned look of heroic fire-hydrants
ready for action, that sigh like empty watering cans
as they pour their newly-enameled transplanted hearts out all over the street
like a wedding rehearsal that stood in for the bride
who’s burning in the walls of the groom like a flower of fire
in the lapel of a black tuxedo; so sad, so indefensibly stricken by grief
to know the paint rags are a better likeness of their sitters
than a face is, that there are tiny screams in the grass for mercy
that are only answered by a praying mantis,
and agonies of crushed centipedes that die like eyebrows
and the hides of mangy crosswalks thrown down on the street
like zebras; so unbearably sad in an avalanche of tortoise shells
excavated for their meat like raped bells with their tongues cut out,
my mouth turns into a wound,
and every word’s a galaxy of salt.

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Leaving You to Sit and Wait

IF they can ruin themselves
And their own fellowmen.
Destroy families and friends
For a dollar bill whose value
Nears an end...
Do you believe their priorities,
Anguish over what to bring to a picnic?
Leaving you to sit and wait for a response?
The premise of it is sick.
Like an attack on innocent people is launched!
And the excuses for it are accepted.

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Believe Understand and Wait

Believe in the purpose
Understand it's meaning
And wait for the results

Believe in yourself
Understand that you can't be perfect
And wait for your reaction

Believe in the truth
Understand the lie
And wait to fit them together

Believe in what you see
Understand what you hear
And wait to judge

It's the process of thinking
Believe and understand
Speak and wait for results

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Call It Love

For all these years
Ive been rushing and running away
I have seen the cities
The bars and the beaches are full
To keep away from you
I know Ill meet you
One day, for a lifetime
Im scared
One thousand years I could live on your smile
Im scared
And run away forever
For all that time Ive been crazy
There is no escape
Come back to the city
Come back in the hotel and wait
The city waits forever

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Call It Love

For all these years
Ive been rushing and running away
I have seen the cities
The bars and the beaches are full
To keep away from you
I know Ill meet you
One day, for a lifetime
Im scared
One thousand years I could live on your smile
Im scared
And run away forever
For all that time Ive been crazy
There is no escape
Come back to the city
Come back in the hotel and wait
The city waits forever

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Did You Just Have A Wish To Sit

I know you are making the attempt,
To have one man held accountable...
For all of your headaches,
Since the event of your birth.

However...
At least admit,
There was some kind of consciousness...
You remember,
Before he 'agreed' to achieve,
The impossible.
With you rolling up your sleeves...
Helping to rid your life of your own debris.

And...
I believe this was to be done with your assistance.
Have you abandoned that acknowledgement as well?
Or did you just have a wish to sit in comfort as accustomed?

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Say The Word - Ill Be There

Written: stock waterman, kylie minogue
1a:
Oh, in the dead of night
Adrift on the ocean wide
High on the mountain side
You can count on me
1b:
If youre deep in the jungle boy
Caught in a winter storm
Kidnapped by anyone
Ill set you free
Chorus:
Say the word - Ill be there
To give you love and care
Theres nothing that I wouldnt do for you
Say the word - Ill be there
Ill reach you anywhere
Nothing can keep me away from you
2:
If youre lost in the wilderness
Cant tell the east from west
Just feeling second best
I wont let you down
The night comes around again
And youre with a friend
Ill love to the very end
Ill come around
Chorus:
1b:
Chorus:
Chorus:
(repeat x2)

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Whose Heartache Is This Anyway

(wayland holyfield, jim mcbride)
Dont tell me that time will ease the pain
Dont tell me the sunshines after the rain
Dont sit there and tell me
Ill love again someday
Whose heartache is this anyway
Dont say that all things happen
For the best
And dont talk of silver linings
Dont tell me Ill forget
Dont say dont you worry
Cause everything will be ok
Whose heartache is this anyway
Chorus:
Cause Im not in the mood for sympathy
At least not from the one whos leaving me
So dont try to make it easy
Dont search for words to say
Whose heartache is this anyway
Well you say thatll always care for me
That Ill always be special
Well thats not what I need
So why dont you just go now
Youve done enough today
And whose heartache is this anyway
Repeat chorus
Why dont you just go now
Youve done enough today
And whose heartache is this anyway

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Sit There And Eat It

OH!
So you want to 'mince' something?
You come in here ready to dice...
With me?
Well...
Let me tell you something right now...
You take this knife!
You see that roasted garlic?
Vadalia onion, parsley and garden tomato?
You dice them first!
You mince that together.
See that sauce pan?
DO YOU?
Put some olive oil in that pan!
Add some seasalt.
Now you add some fresh ground pepper.
Wait until that oil heats!
DO YOU HEAR ME?
DO YOU?
Do you see that cod sitting over there?
Get the butter!
Get the unsalted butter.
What do you mean there is only salted butter?
Then USE it!
Melt it separately.
Dip that cod in that butter.
Throw that diced stuff in that oil.
Sizzle all of it!
Now put that cod in!
YES! Put that in there! In that pan!
And...
When that is finished cooking,
I want you to sit there and eat it!
Every dropp of it!
WHY are you smiling?
I didn't do a thing!

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Stretch Out And Wait

On the high-rise estate
What's at the back of your mind ?
Oh, a three-day debate
On a high-rise estate
What's at the back of your mind ?
Two icy-cold hands conducting the way
It's the eskimo blood in my veins
Amid concrete and clay
And general decay
Nature must still find a way
So ignore all the codes of the day
Let your juvenile influences sway
This way and that way (this way)
This way and that way (this way)
God, how sex implores you
To let yourself lose yourself
Stretch out and wait
Stretch out and wait
Oh ... let your puny body, lie down, lie down
As we lie, you say
As we lie, you say
Stretch out and ...
Stretch out and wait
Stretch out and wait
Oh ... let your puny body lie down, lie down
As we lie, you say :
Will the world end in the night time ?
(i really don't know)
Or will the world end in the day time ?
(i really don't know)
And is there any point ever having children ?
Oh, i don't know
What i do know is we're here and it's now
So ... stretch out and wait
Stretch out and wait
There is no debate, no debate, no debate
How can you conciously contemplate
When there's no debate, no debate ?
Stretch out and wait
Stretch out and wait
Stretch out and wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait

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Robert Louis Stevenson

The Wind Is Without There And Howls In The Trees

THE wind is without there and howls in the trees,
And the rain-flurries drum on the glass:
Alone by the fireside with elbows on knees
I can number the hours as they pass.
Yet now, when to cheer me the crickets begin,
And my pipe is just happily lit,
Believe me, my friend, tho' the evening draws in,
That not all uncontested I sit.

Alone, did I say? O no, nowise alone
With the Past sitting warm on my knee,
To gossip of days that are over and gone,
But still charming to her and to me.
With much to be glad of and much to deplore,
Yet, as these days with those we compare,
Believe me, my friend, tho' the sorrows seem more
They are somehow more easy to bear.

And thou, faded Future, uncertain and frail,
As I cherish thy light in each draught,
His lamp is not more to the miner - their sail
Is not more to the crew on the raft.
For Hope can make feeble ones earnest and brave,
And, as forth thro' the years I look on,
Believe me, my friend, between this and the grave,
I see wonderful things to be done.

To do or to try; and, believe me, my friend,
If the call should come early for me,
I can leave these foundations uprooted, and tend
For some new city over the sea.
To do or to try; and if failure be mine,
And if Fortune go cross to my plan,
Believe me, my friend, tho' I mourn the design
I shall never lament for the man.

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The Drama Exam

I sit outside the exam room,
Worrying that I'll forget my lines.
I sit there feeling anxious,
Trying to convince myself it will be just fine.

I can hear the slightly muffled sounds
Of the previous candidate going through their paces.
Sat in the corridor at RADA, on my own,
My mind feels with fear, while my heart madly races.

I've rehearsed these pieces over and over,
So the words I'm hoping that I won't forget.
I've recited them every day for weeks on end,
So, in my mind, they should be firmly set.

Soon enough, it's my chance to shine.
I know I've got to keep my nerves at bay.
I take a deep breath, compose myself, then launch into
'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? '

After my sonnet, I perform my speech.
'If music be the food of love, ' I start to recite.
I'm totally amazed and relieved that, for both pieces,
I manage to get every single word perfectly right!

Next, the examiner sits me back down,
To discuss her expectations for the sight reading test.
With only a few minutes preparation time.
I'll just have to try and do my very best.

With the exam now over,
To the examiner, I bid farewell.
I think I've done okay,
But, I guess, it can be hard to tell.

A few weeks later, I get my result.
I've passed with Merit. I feel great,
And so, that night, I head to the pub,
For a drink to celebrate!

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For The Crime Of Murder There Is No Defence

The good Lords commandments have been cast to the side,
If you commit murder there's no need to hide,
We no longer heed the words of our God,
With self-interest society has become overawed.

Material goods are more important than health,
Regardless of how you obtain that wealth,
Stealing by force is now classed as routine,
Our society is in the worst state it's ever been.

All religions dictate, thou shalt not kill,
It's a commandment we humans can't seem to fulfill,
Of killings there's always an endless supply,
We've an insatiable appetite to watch others die.

Be it in wars or through mindless disputes,
Violence towards others is what it recruits,
If someone's being killed we just stop and stare,
Fact is nowadays we no longer care.

We see it daily while watching the news,
It's a crime that some lawyers try to excuse,
We no longer see murder as a heinous act,
It's looked on as minor that is a sad fact.

Violence towards others is a daily routine,
We will turn away to avoid being seen,
If you don't enjoy violence you are way out of tune,
From murder and mayhem we've become immune.

From an early age we learn all about death,
How to make someone take that final breath,
From computer games to movies of hate,
Our thirst for killing we find hard to abate.

We're taught that it's wrong but we don't seem to hear,
The destruction of others we no longer fear,
We look upon murder as a way of life,
It doesn't bother us it be it with gun or a knife.

There's no deterrent to killing another,
Conscience nowadays is so easy to smother,
A luxury prison will be your reward,
What happened to living and dying by the sword?

A few years in jail and soon you'll be free,
That's not a punishment I'm sure you'd agree?
Killing for fun is now classed as the norm,
Then the victims are told you need to reform.

While they and their families find it hard to live on,
The perpetrators complain they feel put upon,
By pandering to murderers we encourage their crimes,
Laughing at killing is a sign of the times.

Unless we change now our society will fail,
We'll no longer bother putting murderers in jail,
The decent will be scared just to be alive,
Lawlessness and anarchy are what we'll see thrive.

If you're honest you'll be classed as totally insane,
Then cast to the side if you dare to complain,
Society as we know it will no longer exist,
The good among us will no longer be missed.

It's to future generations this legacy we endow,
Killing others means nothing, it's happening now,
If you think it's okay then you're totally dense,

‘' For The Crime Of Murder There Is No Defence ‘'

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Blind Man's Buff

I remember as a child we used to
Play out in the square,
In the sleepy little village
Someone christened Uno Ware,
There was never any traffic so
Until we'd had enough,
With the cruelty of children
We'd keep playing Blind Man's Buff.

It was cruel, I admit it and
Regret the very day,
The first time we invited young
Immanuel to play,
He was Russian, and had come to live
From halfway round the earth,
He was always labelled ‘It' because
He'd been stone blind from birth.

His father, Andropovski was
An evil looking man,
But he'd fled before the Communists
Had come to rule the land,
He'd been in the Palace Guard, had
Given service to the Csar,
While the Bolsheviks had gathered,
He'd deserted, travelled far.

Immanuel was only nine
A stranger to the street,
He was not allowed to play with us
The urchins in bare feet,
But his father was a woodsman and
Away most every day,
So we gathered round his window,
Asked Immanuel to play.

We'd lead him out and spin him round
And say, ‘You're it! ' and stuff,
And he'd shriek and laugh and stagger
As we played our Blind Man's Buff,
But he very rarely caught us
We were far too quick for him,
‘Til his father, Andropovski,
Kicked our butts and took him in.

After that he stayed inside or
Came to sit out on the porch,
And he'd listen to us playing
We'd indulge in different sports,
Then he took a knife and whittled
Just to pass away the time,
And he made the most amazing things
For someone who was blind.

He'd get a picture in his head
Of what he'd never seen,
Then he'd whittle and he'd whittle
At the substance of his dream,
And they gradually got bigger as
He grew up in the dark,
He would whittle from huge logs
Once he had stripped away the bark.

I remember when he whittled
A whole lizard from the wood,
Well, it looked much like a lizard
I would watch him as he stood,
And he'd ask me lots of questions
About sizes and of shapes,
About elephants and zebras
About seagulls, terns and apes.

I would answer him directly
In exacting measurements,
Tell him how they moved, of hair and fur
Of food, and excrements,
I would draw him mental pictures
Of the things he'd never seen,
As his knife would chip and whittle,
And his face would fairly beam.

Then one day it just turned nasty
When a friend called Henry Goode,
Said he'd seen that wooden lizard
Snaking off into the wood,
So I asked Immanuel, I said:
‘I don't know what he's on,
But Henry saw your lizard move! '
Immanuel said: ‘It's gone! '

He never would expand on this,
He'd shrug and turn away,
But still his knife flashed in the air,
Would chip and strip away,
Then Mrs. Brown came screaming that
She'd been down by the wharf,
Had been accosted by some man,
She said, ‘A wooden dwarf! '

And that was just the start of it
A mist came swirling down,
So thick we couldn't find our way
Both in or out of town,
A flying wooden parrot then
Knocked off the Parson's hat,
And lay there squawking feebly ‘til
The Parson stamped on that.

I found Immanuel on the porch
And said, ‘Hey, what's the game? '
He scowled in my direction, said,
‘Don't like it? What a shame!
You thought it was good fun to tease,
Could never get enough,
When I was just the blind kid, ‘It',
And playing Blind Man's Buff! '

Our village faded from the map
That mist just kept us there,
And people whispered, ‘Where's it gone?
That village, you know where! '
Immanuel said we'd play again
That game we loved the most,
But we'd be ‘It', he'd whittled it,
Turned loose the Holy Ghost!

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